


The Different Stages of "Love"

by xxELF21xx



Series: The Fates Will Tell Your Tale (Kamen Rider) [1]
Category: Kamen Rider - All Media Types, Kamen Rider W (Double)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This At 2AM In The Morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't like he needed it, but the silence was deafening. It wasn't like he wanted it, but his body was craving it. It wasn't like he wanted to run, but his mind was reeling and his heart was shattering.</p><p>It wasn't like he loved him, but his entire destiny had rewritten itself for the two of them.</p><p>(AKA "The Confession(s)")</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Different Stages of "Love"

**Author's Note:**

> I CAME UP WITH THIS AT 2 IN THE MORNING SO BUCKLE UP AND HAVE A BLAST READING MY 2AM COFFEE-AND-ENERGY DRINK INDUCED FANFIC.
> 
> GET READY TO C R I N G E.
> 
> Un'beta'd. If there are mistakes, please tell me!

It wasn't like he needed it, but the silence was deafening. It wasn't like he wanted it, but his body was craving it. It wasn't like he wanted to run, but his mind was reeling and his heart was shattering.

It wasn't like he loved him, but his entire destiny had rewritten itself for the two of them.

He was just a loner, walking in his own shadow as the memories of _-of what?_ He couldn't remember anything. Did his parents love him? Does he have siblings? Did he have a pet? Does his family know what happened? What was his actual name? Did he have any friends? Casting a look from the curtains of his fringe, he studied the other figure, watching as the other person flips through a book, curiosity shining in the eyes he knew so well.

In the small office, all they ever shared were words and glances and looks and touches signifying the loss they've felt and the gains they made together.

It wasn't like he needed it, but the silence was deafening. Each night, he lay on the wired floors of the garage, listening, listening to the silence as he hugs a book close to his chest. He reflects, searching through the depths of his mind, thinking of when he met that person. He hated the other, arrogance and irritation shining in the other's eyes as they scrutinise him. Those eyes later turned glassy and horrified as he remembered the blood, staining the white suit of his saviour. The hat, now torn, adorned the other. He lay, awake, as his breathing turned ragged and he curled in on himself. The silence was loud, he thought, and for all the knowledge he was worth, he couldn't remember. There was a banging on the door, shattering the fragile air, before the door was swung open. Light flooded in, causing him to wince, and he saw those eyes again, full of worry and anxiousness and burning with loneliness.

'Come outside and sleep on the bed. I'll take the couch.' The other spoke, eyes trained on his face. Meekly, slowly, he touched his own face, and was jolted by the tears running down.

Later that night, he lays awake, tucked in a bed, listening to the sounds of a soothing voice retelling stories of childhood and adventures. That night, he didn't have blanks for dreams.

+

It wasn't like he wanted it, but his body was craving for it. How does hugging a person feel like? Why would one feel safe when hugged? How are hugs capable of reducing stress? The human body needs to have physical contact with other human beings, but why? He found himself yearning, and deep within his mind where his memories have resided, he longs for someone to hug him and say  _"everything will be okay"._  He knows that's impossible, his partner is too busy trying to keep the both of them-and the office-afloat, working as fast as he can on certain cases and getting his clients to pay higher rates. 'You use markers and dusters faster than the speed of light, and your constant need, and stealing, of my paper clips for your hair is horrendous,' his partner had joked, when questioned why the other was looking like an insomniac. He'd offered his help, but was turned down as  _"Boss put me in charge of you, and you're underage"._  He wasn't underage. 

And he made the mistake, during one of their petty little fights ( _'Philip! You need to have a break sometimes! I know you want to help, but at least take care of yourself!'_ He was tempted to say  _"but who would care for you?"_ ), where the other was winning, eyes ablaze with possessiveness and hiding a streak of exhaustion, when he went forward, tears brimming in his eyes, and wrapping his arms around the other. It took the other several moments to digest the situation, but by then, he was already a wreck. 'I just wanted to help,' he whimpered, feeling the walls he had so carefully built (with precision) crumble in his mind. 'You can help me,' the other whispers, soft, 'by taking care of yourself.'  _But who would care of you?_

It became routine, after that incident. Whenever he was feeling upset or stressed or having a bad time in the Gaia Bookshelves, he would just go up to the other and hug the living daylights out of him. 'I don't need to use the Books sometimes, after all. . .' He says to himself during one of his self-initiated cuddle sessions. He ignores his partner's questioning looks.

+

It wasn't like he wanted to run, but his mind was reeling and his heart was shattering. He had watched, with his heart on the line, as Akiko teased the other for being weak when it came to women, and the other had the audacity to laugh and smile like it was nothing. The chief caught his eye, pity and anger scribbled all over her face, before slapping the other with her green slipper. He could only laugh-all brittle and sharp-at the two, hurrying back into the garage to hide his emotions. 'I'm not supposed to feel like this,' he whispers.

It takes him several days to build up the courage, and to secure a place where he can fix his broken heart (because there was a seventy percent chance he would be rejected), and Akiko had noticed. She dragged him to the side, 'Philip, if he ever hurts you, come talk to me. Okay?' He nods numbly, nerves eating at his stomach. All the preparation, he discovered, was useless when during another one of their fights ( _'you're distracted!' 'You're imagining it!'_ ), he'd blurted it out by accident.

 _'I'm disctracted 'cause I love you!'_ The other looked at him, relief in his eyes. For a moment, he thought the feelings were mutual. 'Philip, I love you too. Now tell me the _real_ reason,' there was a hint of annoyance in the tone. 'I-I don't love you like that,' he explains, soft, scared. He takes two huge steps, placing his lips softly, _carefully,_ against the other's.

It lasted like that for several minutes. None of them moved. The other was clearly frozen in place, shocked. Regret filled his entire body, but before he could do anything, the other pushed him away; as if burnt. If the detective saw the look of hurt given by him, the detective ignored it very well.

They didn't change words.

He bolted, out the garage and through the main door, ignoring Akiko's shouts and the detective's futile attempts at calling his name. He couldn't hear anything beyond his racing heart, Wakana's "Healing Princess" should be airing right now, but he couldn't hear it. What was there to heal when everything was burnt to crimsons and ashes? He flew out the main door, knocking Fang over the pool table when he stumbled, eyes watering and world blurring together. The fastest way to relief pain is to be caught up in doing something else, the Books had said. And so he ran, to God knows where until the dark of night came again, creeping on him and eating him up whole. By the time he realised how late it was, he was utterly lost. It seemed to be a forest of some sort (like the one where he's seen in his partner's mind), silent and still as air. Feeling a sudden loss of energy, he crumpled, folding beneath his legs as he felt the last of his tears slip out.

The world was a blur or trees, the moon, an open field, and a woman who wore a mask and a large black hat. Then, he felt warmth. And suddenly it feels like home.

===

It wasn't like he loved him, but his entire destiny had rewritten itself for the two of them. 

He has never felt that way before, the electric touches and the spread of warmth and  _love_ surge through him when he looks over to Philip. The small, frail boy with the most distant eyes on earth had grown up so much, blossoming under the joint care of everyone he knew. There were moments, before Akiko appeared, where he found himself slouched in front of the door of the garage, listening to the hums of machines and scribbles of markers against whiteboards, coupled with the murmurings of sentences (in more than one language, more often than not), and he thinks about what he's done. Was it right for him to hide Philip like this? In a _fucking garage?_ Was it fine for him to not notice when Philip isn't feeling well or if Philip starts to fidget in his sleep and faints more often or when Philip has nightmares and starts screaming, banging the garage floors and weeping; while he was away on a case? Was it okay to treat Philip like a lost child looking for his parents? Was it acceptable for him to remember Philip only when he needed the younger boy, and then push him to the back of his brain? Was it selfish of him to make sure the boy still get basic education of current issues, etiquette and to teach him how to lead a stable lifestyle when Philip could just  _pick a God damned book from the Library?_

Was it okay for him to remember that Philip, the fucking _Child of Fate and the Earth,_ that it was him who caused Boss's prolonged absence? 'It was my own damned fault too,' he whispered, leaning his head onto the door.

He doesn't know how to describe the feeling he gets when Philip smiles (or even _laughs)_ at his awful jokes, or when Philip starts talking about random topics like the chances of getting lost in IKEA, or the possibility of the both of them finding a treasure chest. The worst thing is, he doesn't know what to label the feeling when they transform, becoming one soul and body. He doesn't  _know,_ and he's supposed to be the "adult".

There are also instances when he remembers, being the Boss's apprentice, being the "child", being irresponsible and irritating, being the comic relief. Instances that don't involve Philip, instances where "Philip" didn't  _exist._ And then he remembers what it feels like to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, to bear the grief of not being able to save the person that saved him, of being forced to be more mature than he really is.  _Of being responsible for someone he doesn't know._ His entire future was rewritten the moment those maniacal pair of bright, brown eyes met his own. 

He thinks about times where he'll meet Philip but under different circumstances. No deaths, no sacrifices, no Memories, no Dopants, no Drivers, no transformations and no Kamen Riders. Just two people meeting and bonding and laughing and joking and  _receiving without giving things up._ He wishes, of a world where Boss didn't die, so Boss could make Philip a better person, given him a much more comfortable life not bound by duty. 

And after all that Philip is, he is still  _human._ He still gets scared by the dark, needs to be praised and soothed, needs to be embraced and needs to have fun. 

 _To err is human._ He didn't mean for it to turn out this way. He didn't know that his actions have led to this. He didn't know that he had been admired. The hammering in his chest and the eerie quiet of the garage when Philip placed his lips against his own (he could feel Philip's heart race, could feel Philip's lips tremble), the crashing revelation of  _"I made a mistake"_ and  _"he wasn't supposed to develop feelings for me"_ had made him blank out. And he pushed the other boy away. He could hear Akiko shouting for them, but all he could focus on was  _Philip._ Philip, whose eyes shone with tears and heartbreak and  _hurt._ There was a brief silence (of two seconds), when Philip  _sprints._ 'Philip?' Akiko yells, a knowing look of sadness and pity on her face, running to the door. 'Philip! Wait! I can- I need to explain myself so  _wait.'_ He calls, lifting his legs of lead, running for the door. There is a crash, and the roar of Fang, before the main door gets thrown open and there is silence. Philip has always been a silent runner. 

He runs downstairs, catching sight of the destruction. The pool table in the centre was pushed to a side, and all but the Eight ball was potted. Fang stood on one of the corners, roaring repeatedly. 'Yeah, okay. I'll go look for him. Help me,  _please.'_ He rides around Fuuto, looking for the brightly coloured boy. He even calls  _Terui_. 'I made a mistake. Alright,' he sounds so  _broken,_ it's pathetic. Terui just mumble a string of curses and barks out orders, before assuring him that Philip will be found. 'But call me if you find him first,' Terui says, before cutting the line. 

There are a lot of feelings he doesn't know. But the crippling feeling of fear and loss is something he's familiar with.

===

It wasn't until three in the morning that Philip was found. Fang screeched for attention when he was on the highway, anxiety reaching its peak. 'Where is he?' He yelled, patience wearing thin. Fang, apparently sensing the apprehension, sprang off his bike and led the way. Terui called next, a wry "good morning" as a greeting, before informing him that Philip was in the forest. 'How did you find him?' Terui went silent before replying, 'Shroud called me. She found him first.' He revved the engine once more before speeding away.

It was when the sky was turning lighter that he woke up, a purple blanket carefully thrown over him protected him from the harsh winds of the previous night. The shrieks that Fang sent out shook him into full consciousness. 'Fang. . .?' He questioned, observing the little creature in his palms. 'You feeling a little better?'  _That voice. . ._ the memories of yesterday resurfaced, and he scrambled onto his feet, before turning around to run off again. 'Fang, you betrayed me,' he hissed, Fang merely gave a little screech. 

'How long are you going to keep running?'

'As long as I have feelings for you,' was the immediate response. 

There it was again, the awful silence. He was ready to make a run for it when Shoutaro spoke up, 'you didn't hear my response.' In a clipped tone, he replied, 'I saw it.' A frustrated noise escaped the older man, before he felt a hand turn him around and a forehead touch his. 'I'm not. . . I'm not as eloquent as you, alright.' Shoutaro breathed out, eyes dimmed and face pale. 'I  _don't know_ what I was supposed to do when you came, I wasn't prepared, I wasn't mature enough, I wasn't  _stable.'_ There was a pause, and dark eyes searches his face for a sign of response, before continuing. 

'I thought I made a mistake when you. . .  _confessed._ But listen to me, alright, listen.' He quietened down, Fang resting peacefully in his hoodie pockets. 'I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know what to say or what to do and I thought I made a mistake by having you foster feelings for me. I'm sorry.' And that was when he saw it, flashes of memories, from Shoutaro's perspective, of the office before Philip came, of Begins Night, of the first transformation, of bits of life afterwards, feelings of confusion and loneliness and fear and grief and hope and  _uselessness._ 'I'm sorry,' Shoutaro whispered. 

Silence. Comfortable silence.

'Hey, Shoutaro.' 

'Yeah?'

'Do you love-love me?'

'For all God's sake,  _I love-love you, Philip.'_

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda thought that the memory would be like a "confession" (from Shoutaro's POV), which is why the ending kinda looked weird.
> 
> I mean, I wrote this at 2AM. 
> 
> I dunno if I'm gonna edit this or anything oOPS.


End file.
